Inevitably

sometimes
my heart is a barren land,
parched and dishonored.

there is no whimper of
love, no slight shade
of desire.

my heart feels like
a shriveled Lady
cast into a warp
of her own faithlessness.

my hollow bones wreak
of past loves dust,
my veins bemoan my
timeless wait.

my heart is like the gaping
of a dry, dry sea
groaning for its erstwhile
glory.

the echoes of desperation
haunt every crevice
in this vast, disgraced
abyss.

the thick stench
of decay lingers in my
joyless heart.

burnt belief, unrequited
loyalty and the ashes of
mirth are scattered
carelessly.

my heart is a dead
soldier,
brave but defeated.

empty dreams lace this
soldier mocking
his stupidity,
his vulnerability.

the beating of my heart
has withered to a
neglected whisper.

maybe now,
maybe later,
maybe never.

my heart has become
an eternal
quiet room.

gushes of love, the noise of hope,
the giggle of passion,
the laugh of life
are silenced by
aging time.